


the dreadful need

by dreamtiwasanarchitect



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Desperation, Dildos, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani and Nicky | Nicolò di Genova are in Love, Lace Panties, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Post-Canon, Sex Tapes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:13:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27609509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamtiwasanarchitect/pseuds/dreamtiwasanarchitect
Summary: “Hello, my love. I should have said sooner, but—I’ve missed you this past month.” Nicky’s voice, even this tinny, recorded version of it, makes Joe’s heart jump.On the screen, Nicky pushes down his jeans and boxers in one go.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 50
Kudos: 383





	the dreadful need

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this kinkmeme prompt:
> 
> "A mission requires Joe to go undercover for a whole year, and they all agree he'll check in with the team once a month through one of Copley's ultra-secure channels or something. On the first check in, he receives a message from Nicky containing nothing but one of those shortened links that don't give away anything about the content. Joe clicks it, excitedly thinking his love maybe recorded a message for him and, well... technically it is a message. That Nicky recorded for him. And it says, in graphic detail if not so many words, 'I'm riding the fuck out of this dildo while thinking about you.'
> 
> After that Joe gets a new video with every monthly check-in. They range from 'I'm so desperate for you I can't sleep' filmed in a motel room in the middle of the night on a mediocre phone camera, to 'I rented a studio complete with ring lights and everything, weeks of planning went into this'. Some are sweet and some are kinky as hell, in some Nicky is very quiet and in others he pulls out all the stops on the dirty talk. Toys, props, sexy lingerie, or just Nicky rubbing himself through his most comfy pair of sweatpants. You get the picture.
> 
> \+ each link can only be accessed once :) for security reasons :)  
> \+ in the meantime Joe builds up quite a mental catalogue of fantasies based on the previous months' videos  
> reunion sex where Joe is kind of desperate and Nicky is smug as hell"

A year, in the grand scheme of their immortal lives, is nothing. A blip. But one month into his solo job, Joe is already feeling impatient. He misses Andy and Nile, of course, and separation from Nicky is almost physically painful. 

What’s more, the job itself is incredibly dull. He’s made an adequate amount of progress infiltrating the money laundering ring, but it’s early days. He’s still spending most of his time sitting around, waiting for his contact to text him.

Today, though, Joe at least gets to check in with the others. At the shitty little internet cafe, he logs into the shared email account created for this express purpose. There are no emails in the sent folder (though somehow this account has been receiving various promotions from Lush Cosmetics and Girlfriend Collective, whatever that is), but there’s a message in the drafts.

All it says is, _Copy and open when you’re alone._ There’s a link, too, something short that doesn’t give him any hints as to what it is. Joe pulls out his phone and types the URL into the notes, then deletes the text in the current draft. 

_So far so good_ , is all he writes before logging out and heading home. He spends the short walk consumed with curiosity, praying the mysterious link is some sort of detailed message from Nicky. 

Back at his shabby apartment, Joe kicks off his shoes and sinks down on the bed. He copies the link in his notes into a web browser and waits as it loads.

It’s somehow a blank page—no header logo, no site navigation. There’s only a video, waiting to be clicked and played. 

Joe taps the screen and immediately gets a very, very close up view of Nicky’s face.

The camera shakes and wiggles and Joe realizes Nicky’s adjusting the phone. He must have it on a tripod or propped against something. 

Eventually the phone finds equilibrium. Nicky backs away and Joe sees he’s in their room back at the house in Warsaw. 

His mouth goes very dry when Nicky starts to strip. As he’s unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans, Nicky suddenly looks up and smiles crookedly.

“Hello, my love. I should have said sooner, but—I’ve missed you this past month.” Nicky’s voice, even this tinny, recorded version of it, makes Joe’s heart jump. 

On the screen, Nicky pushes down his jeans and boxers in one go. He crawls on to the bed, giving Joe a tantalizing view of his ass. Joe palms himself through his pants.

Nicky opens the nightstand drawer and looks up again, almost regretful. “This is a poor substitute for you, my heart, but it will have to do.”

Then he pulls out a dildo Joe’s fairly certain he’s never seen before. It’s bigger than Joe’s cock, or any of their other toys scattered in various homes and hideouts across the globe. 

“Yes, a new one,” Nicky says. “It’s the only way I’ve been able to console myself.” 

He rolls on to his back and spreads his legs. Joe watches as Nicky pours lube over his fingers and wastes no time pressing two in. If Joe were there, he’d insist on starting with one, ostensibly for Nicky’s comfort, but really just to tease him more.

“I know if you were here, you’d take your time with me,” Nicky pants. “You’d make me beg just for the privilege of a second finger. And I would, you know I would, I’d beg for anything you’ll give me.” 

Joe undoes his trousers and pushes a hand inside his underwear to grasp his cock, which is already very, very hard.

“If I got too needy, you’d tie me down. Like that time in Brazil. Or perhaps more like the time in Sydney. You kept me there for hours.” Nicky’s riding his own fingers, hips thrusting up into the air.

“You take such good care of me, my love. What am I to do without you? I can hardly sleep without you beside me, haunted by the phantom feel of your perfect fucking cock—” He cuts off with a low moan as he adds a third finger.

Nicky goes nonverbal for a few minutes, just groaning as he keeps fingering himself open. Joe could come right now, but he wants to wait and find release at the same moment Nicky does, as irrational as that desire may be, since this was probably filmed at least a day ago. 

Nicky grabs the dildo and coats it with lube before pressing it into himself. Joe is entranced by the arch of his back. 

“Ah, Joe, it feels so good to be full. I only wish it was you.” Nicky pulls the toy out a little before pressing it back in. 

“The angle—it’s not quite right. I’ve never done this to myself but, ah—” here Nicky’s eyes screw shut “—needs must.” 

After a few more awkward thrusts, Nicky removes the dildo and rolls on to his stomach. He pushes himself up to his hands and knees and pushes it back in.

His moan is so loud it’s like having him in the room. 

“Oh, Joe, it’s so good, ah, ah—” Nicky’s free hand wraps around his cock. He’s rocking back so hard on the dildo that the bed is shaking. Joe speeds up his own strokes. 

“I hope you—I hope you like this,” Nicky gasps out. “I, ah, I wish I could see you, when you watch this, wish I could be there with you, Joe—”

Nicky throws back his head and shouts Joe’s name when he comes. A few more tugs and Joe’s crying out, too. 

He lays in bed, chest heaving, eyes still fixed on his screen as Nicky recovers from his own orgasm. 

Nicky sits up and pads toward the phone on shaky legs. The entire video is Nicky’s face (slightly off-center—Joe can see more of his chin than his forehead) and Joe feels like his heart is in his throat. 

“I love you,” Nicky says. “I miss you.” Then he smirks a little. “See you next month.”

———

The next day Joe goes to re-watch the video and almost cries when he gets a generic error page. He throws himself into the job to distract himself from his despair. 

The upside is that when it comes time to check in again, he’s more than doubled the last month’s progress. He types the link in the drafts—this time with no accompanying text—into his phone and then writes, _Going well. Made some more new friends._

Joe hurries home, but resists the temptation to immediately pull up Nicky’s video. He forces himself to choke down some leftover carryout and makes sure he’s caught up on all job-related tasks and messages.

Once that’s done, he changes into sleepwear—sweats and a shirt that Nicky usually wears—and hops into bed, ready to savor whatever Nicky’s filmed for him this time.

This time the video opens immediately on Nicky, who is in reclining in a bathtub that is certainly not a feature of the Warsaw house. Had he checked into a hotel for this? The room is dark, lit with several candles. 

“Hello, love,” Nicky purrs, and Joe no longer gives a single shit about the setting.

“Have you been looking forward to this? I think you have. I look forward to these, too. Touching myself when I know you’re going to see…it does things to me, Yusuf.” One of Nicky’s hands emerges from the water to trail from his neck to his chest until it’s back under water. 

The rim of the tub is blocking Joe’s view of Nicky’s hand wrapped around his own cock, but the motion of his arm, the blissful expression on his face, the curve of his neck as his head tips back—yeah, that alone is doing it for Joe.

Nicky blinks his eyes open and turns his head to look into the camera. He raises his free hand to pick up the glass of wine that’s sitting on the bathroom floor and takes a long, slow sip. 

Joe lets out a long breath, watching Nicky’s throat work when he swallows. 

“My heart, I was thinking about that time in Buenos Aires, do you remember?”

There have been a couple times in Buenos Aires, Joe thinks.

“We danced all night, then I took you home and rode you until the sun came up. The morning light as you came inside me, filling me up…I will never forget it. My legs were sore for hours. A small price to pay for the look on your face.”

Joe remembers it vividly. He snakes a hand underneath his sweats and rubs against his palm.

“It is very cruel of you, Joe,” Nicky says, voice a little hoarse, “to leave me with hundreds of sketchbooks, full of my own face, and no renderings of yours. What do I care to look at myself? I’d bleed myself dry one hundred times over to see you right now, beloved.”

Nicky’s arm speeds up its movements.

“When you return to me, I’ll have to devise a fitting punishment. Perhaps I’ll ride you again, this time with a band around your cock and your wrists tied to the bedposts, and take my pleasure of you as many times as I can before I even think of letting you spill in me.” 

“Fuck,” Joe hisses to himself. He’s got one hand around his cock now, too, and he runs his other hand over his chest, mirroring the way Nicky’s touching himself in the video.

“Mm, you love it when I’m mean, don’t you? Ah, Joe, I’ll make you beg forgiveness for leaving me bereft, I’ll have you on your knees and crying with it, Joe.” Nicky’s so breathless, he’s going to come any minute, and so is Joe—

“Once I finally permit you to come, I’ll sit on your face, let you slurp it all out of me until I’m clean and ready to take you inside me a-again, ah, Joe!” Nicky lets out a broken cry and comes, and a second later, Joe’s barely got his underwear pulled down in time before he is, too. 

Nicky lets his head fall back against the tub and takes another swig of wine. “Salute,” he says. “I love you so much I think my heart may burst with it. Until next time.” 

He sits up and leans over to blow out some of the nearest candles, and the screen goes dark.

Joe doesn’t bother cleaning himself up—he just rolls over and drops into a deep sleep, though he wakes before the sun rises, and he can’t even fall back into a doze. 

———

The next month’s video features an unusually quiet Nicky, back in the Warsaw house, sucking on his own fingers while touching his cock. 

“I miss the taste of your cock, my love,” Nicky slurs around the fingers in his mouth. 

Nicky comes in his hand and starts licking it clean, which has Joe spilling around his own fist.

“I miss more than your cock,” Nicky confesses into the camera. “I miss everything about you. These three months have felt like nine-hundred years. I live only for the day you return to me.”

The phone camera doesn’t do Nicky’s eyes justice, but even on film they’re impossibly blue—and right now they look so mournful, Joe vows he’ll find a way to make this year-long quest more like a four-month assignment. 

Of course, these things can’t always be rushed. A month later, he’s made considerable progress but hasn’t quite cracked the case, so he performs the check in as usual.

The only good thing about the job dragging on is that he’s getting another Nicky video, and, well, this month it seems like Joe’s in for a treat.

He’s not sure what Nicky’s done differently, but the lighting and overall video quality are much improved. Nicky’s definitely in a hotel room this time, laid out on the bed, and, oh _fuck_. He’s wearing a pair of lacy panties, their deep-red color a stark contrast to his pale pink skin and the starchy white sheets.

A white noise starts up in the video, and that’s when Joe notices—Nicky’s holding a vibrator. 

He’s transfixed as Nicky runs it over his cock, which is just barely contained by the panties. 

“Oh Joe,” Nicky whimpers. “Feels so good. Do you like these? I don’t have your eye for style, I know, but I hope you like how they look.”

He hooks a couple fingers in the band of the underwear. “I bought these for you, but I’m ah, afraid I—I may ruin them, tonight.” 

That’s okay, Joe thinks. They’ll get some more.

“If you were here, you could put your mouth on me, get this lace all wet while you lick me. You could rip these off, put me on my hands and knees and fuck me until I scream. Joe, I want it so badly, I need it, please.” Nicky’s grinding so hard against the vibrator that Joe is almost worried for his cock. 

Joe doesn’t even touch himself, despite being rock hard in his pants. He just stares as Nicky comes in his panties, then pushes them down to his thighs and flips on to his stomach. He fingers himself to a second orgasm, then drops his sweaty forehead to the pillow. 

A full minute passes before Nicky lifts his head to look into the camera again. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. 

“Yusuf. My love. I ache for you. Be well and come home to me soon.” 

The video cuts off, and Joe absently jerks off to the thought of Nicky in those damn panties. There’s no post-orgasmic bliss to be found, though, haunted as he is by the temptation of looking while unable to touch. 

———

Once again, Joe throws himself into the job. He’s so, so close, but before he knows it, another month has come and gone.

 _Nearly there_ , is all he writes in the check-in draft message. Joe trudges home through the rain—Taipei has officially entered the wet season—buoyed only by the promise of another video. 

He strips down to his boxers and crawls under the covers, hoping the sight of Nicky will warm some of the bone-deep chill he feels. 

The latest video is back to standard phone-camera quality. Joe can’t be sure—the room’s a bit dark, with light pouring in from the side, probably a bedside lamp—but it looks like Nicky is filming from their room in Warsaw.

He’s on his stomach, face turned to the side and resting on the pillow. Joe has a view of him from head to thighs, though a sheet covers everything below the small of his back. 

Nicky’s hands are gripping the pillow from beneath it. His hips are rolling against the mattress, humping the bed. He’s staring into the camera, eyes wide and glittering, mouth hanging open.

Joe rolls on to his stomach and props his phone against the pillow on the other side of his bed. Like this, he can almost trick himself into thinking Nicky’s across from him, instead of across the world.

Almost five minutes in, and Nicky still hasn’t said a word, though the sound of his whines and moans is enough to drive Joe mad with wanting. Suddenly, Nicky screws his eyes shut and gasps, “I wish it was you I was fucking into, Yusuf.”

He sounds anguished. He buries his head in the pillow and Joe clenches his fist, silently bidding Nicky to look back at him, but Nicky lets out a long, muffled grunt as he comes. 

Joe is half-hard, but he doesn’t touch himself—he just waits, eyes fixed on the rise and fall of Nicky’s back. 

Finally, Nicky pushes up to his elbows and looks into the camera. His face is blotchy, and Joe’s heart constricts—has he been crying? 

“Nothing is enough,” Nicky tells him, voice soft and scratchy. “Even if my own hand could give me a fraction of the pleasure you do, it wouldn’t matter—I cannot sleep without you beside me. I—” He cuts himself off with a sigh. “My Yusuf. I love you, I think of you always.” He smiles a little and Joe’s heart breaks.

The video ends and Joe is left staring at the black void of his screen. 

Enough is enough. He’s going to wrap this job up—if not tomorrow, then the day after that. 

———

To Joe’s chagrin, the job is not so easily finished, but three or maybe four weeks later (he may have lost track of the time in his fervor) the launderers have been turned over to the local law enforcement, along with plenty of incriminating evidence. 

Joe throws his shit in a duffel and is on the first plan he can find back to WAW. He spends the flight consoling himself that he’s still completed the job in half the time they originally anticipated. 

Disappointingly, his big surprise entrance goes unnoticed—no one seems to hear the safe house door open, presumably because the raised voices in the kitchen drown out the sound.

“—reasonable, Nicky. Let’s give it another few days, you know time is just a construct for Joe—”

“He would not miss this, he knows I would worry,” comes Nicky’s voice, sounding panicked. 

Shit. The rush to finish the job, the race to get back—he forgot about the check in he’s now at least twelve hours late for.

Joe edges into the doorway so he’s in full view of Nile, who’s leaned against the counter. 

“Uh, guys, we’re good.” 

Nicky and Andy look at her, then follow her gaze. Joe drops his bag just in time to get an armful of Nicky. 

They share a quick kiss before Nicky lets go so he can greet Andy and Nile.

“You’re six months early,” Andy says. “What happened? Did your cover get blown?”

“What? No!” Joe scowls. “I got it done.”

Nile, now wrapped in Joe’s hug, cracks up.

“Ha!” Nicky shouts, grinning as he accepts and pockets a wad of Euro from a begrudging Andy. “Thank you very much, boss.” 

Looking sour, Andy rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, this will teach me to respect the power of true love.” 

“Wait. You _bet_ on this?”

“What’s wrong, my love? Of course I bet on you.” 

“I just—wait, is that why you—”

Before he can finish, Nicky leans in to give him a long, wet kiss. Joe’s brain whites out. 

“Let’s celebrate your homecoming,” Nicky says, pulling him into their room. 

When the door shuts behind them, Joe pulls Nicky into his arms, intent on kissing him until he’s dizzy, but Nicky, intently, tells him, “Don’t say anything to Andy.”

“About us fucking? I think she already knows.”

“No,” Nicky says, voice low. “The videos. She will accuse me of foul play.”

Joe’s jaw drops. “I’m sorry, are you telling me those videos were about winning your bet?”

“No!” Nicky kisses his forehead. “Of course not. They were about my insatiable need for you.” He looks at Joe earnestly, then his lips twitch. “That they helped me win my bet was only an added benefit.”

“Nico, you little cheat.” He pinches Nicky’s ass.

Nicky smirks and grinds against him. “I had plenty of reasons to encourage you to hurry.” 

Then Joe does kiss him. He kisses him as he steers them to the bed, as he strips off their clothes, as he pins Nicky beneath him.

He sucks bruises into Nicky’s neck while he ruts against him, wild for the feel of their cocks rubbing together. Just touching Nicky after months apart already has him so close.

“Joe.” Nicky swats at his shoulder blades until he pulls back. “Is this how you want to come?”

“I don’t think I can last long enough to open you up, and if you put a finger in me I know I’m done, fuck, Nicky—”

“I’m already open enough,” Nicky says, and guides Joe’s fingers to his hole. “You were supposed to check in, remember?”

“Oh fuck—my video—is it on your phone?”

Nicky nods.

“Pull it up,” Joe barks out, powerless to tamp down the force of his sudden need.

Nicky has to push Joe off to grope for his phone in his jeans pocket. While he searches, Joe quickly lubes up his cock, almost vibrating with anticipation. 

His eyes are a little glassy but full of devilry as he gives Joe a scorching look. “You want to watch me finger myself open for you while you fuck me, love?” 

“Fuck, fuck, Nicky, please—"

Nicky props his phone against a book on the nightstand and hits play. Joe watches for a moment as the Nicky on the screen starts teasing his own hole, then he yanks up the legs of the Nicky beneath him and pushes into that perfect heat.

Watching the recording of Nicky playing with his own ass while Joe thrusts into it in real life is an experience that’s going to need repeating. He fucks Nicky like an animal, urged on by the whispers of “yes, Yusuf, harder, harder” in his ear. 

The video Nicky doesn’t even look close to coming, but Joe feels himself starting to unravel until his own orgasm is inevitable. It hits him with such force that he practically yells in Nicky’s year, a string of curses punctuated with Nicky’s name. 

He comes so hard that when his senses are back online, the video is over and he’s been rolled off Nicky, on to his side. Their fronts are pressed together, and he can feel Nicky, still hard against his thigh. 

“Good?” Nicky asks as he strokes Joe’s sweaty curls from his forehead.

“Fuck. So good, Nicky.” He cracks a smile and gets a soft kiss. 

“Though,” Joe continues when Nicky pulls back, “I regretfully haven’t done much for your, ah, insatiable need.” He glances down pointedly.

“Never fear, my love,” Nicky tells him. “I’ve had plenty of time to think of all the ways you might make it up to me.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Look I don't know anything about covert ops but I did read "Life Undercover: Coming of Age in the CIA" and according to Ms. Fox, drafts in a shared email account is how undercover operatives communicate with their contacts so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
